


The Case of the Dangerous Dowager

by mydogwatson



Series: The Postcard Tales [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Revenge, Time to pick a side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5090741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydogwatson/pseuds/mydogwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is summoned to a meeting.  There is no tea served, sadly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Dangerous Dowager

**Author's Note:**

> Still trying to work towards a solution for season three. And I don't think Mummy gets enough respect. I feel sure that she is capable of avenging herself on the bitch who shot her baby boy. Go for it, Mummy!

There was a definite chill in the room that was not alleviated in the slightest by the cheerful fire blazing away in the corner. He did not remember the room feeling this cool on his only other previous visit. Maybe Xmas made everything feel warmer. It was the time of day when one might have expected tea to be offered and maybe even warm scones with cream. But none of that appeared to be forthcoming.

John Watson still did not know exactly why he had been summoned---alone---to this meeting with Mummy Holmes. By the time they were both seated in the parlour in front of that useless fire, however, John did know one thing clearly: That he was not sitting across from the same cheerful matriarch who had hosted [albeit briefly] a holiday get together. This time her spine was stiff and her eyes even colder than the room.

She looked at him. “So, John, I assume you know why I asked you to call this afternoon?”

He thought, desperately, but still came up with nothing. John shrugged. “Not a clue.” He tried a smile that was only minimally successful. “For tea?”

She was not amused. 

“Please tell me,” John said. “Is it about Sherlock?”

The gaze that was fixed on him reminded John a little too much of his former flatmate at his most disdainful. “I have a question for you.”

“Okay,” John said agreeably.

“First, though, I should tell you that I know everything that has happened.”

“If that is supposed to clear things up, it doesn’t,” John muttered, starting to get a bit irritated.

A certain tightness took over her lips and again she was nothing like the motherly type who had so recently pressed a gingerbread man into his hand. “I am talking, of course, about the fact that your so-called wife is the one who shot my baby boy.”

John felt the blood drain from his face as his brain stuttered and then got stuck on only three words. “My ‘so-called’ wife?” he said hoarsely.

Mummy [and why couldn’t he stop thinking of her that way?] made a dismissive gesture. “She used a false name. An entirely false persona. Under those circumstances and considering what you know of her now, why would you consider the marriage to be valid at all?”

John tried to work up a little saliva in his mouth so that he could speak, although he had no idea what to say. She was not pointing out anything that he hadn’t thought about many times already. “The baby,” was what he finally said, so softly that it was almost a whisper.

She gave a ladylike and yet still Sherlockian sniff. “As to that, I will say nothing, John, save that I hope a DNA test will be forthcoming. I doubt that a pathological liar and paid assassin is much concerned with sexual fidelity.”

Again, this was not a new thought, but it was one thing to let the idea drift around in his own mind and quite another to have it stated so baldly by someone else. He opened his mouth, but then just nodded, although it was not clear with what exactly he was agreeing.

“But that is not what I want to talk about,” Mummy said. “My question is this, John: How could you stay with the person who shot and so nearly killed Sherlock? I thought you cared about him.”

“I do,” John protested. “He’s my best friend.”

“And yet.”

There were things John could say. About how Sherlock urged him to reconcile. About the baby, which might be his. And there were things he could not say, like how John was never really certain about his own importance to Sherlock and that by the time he was pretty sure how Sherlock felt, it was too late. But John knew already that none of what he could say would satisfy this woman. No more than it satisfied him. After a few minutes of silence, John just stood, gave her a nod, and started for the door.

“John.” she said quietly.

He stopped, but did not turn. “Yes?”

“I will not let this lie. Do not forget that I raised Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes. I am not helpless. Before I act, perhaps you had better choose your side.”

He nodded again and left.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Title from: The Case of the Dangerous Dowager by Erle Stanley Gardner


End file.
